


Hunting Season

by Sabrielle



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Dominance, Eavesdropping, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hate Sex, Light fluff if you squint, Loosely based around canon events, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 10:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabrielle/pseuds/Sabrielle
Summary: You evade all of Jacob Seed's hunting parties. What other choice does he have than to drag you back himself?





	1. She-Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 of a 2 part series. Fluff or smut for part 2? I can't decide...

Joseph has invited their death through the front door.

Jacob had seen enough and dealt enough death to know it when he saw it. Death was not the old Sheriff, hesitant and wary, nor the blustering Marshal, eager to embarrass himself. Jacob watched you cuff his brother and shook his head at the foolishness of it. Your eyes were clear and unwavering, gloved hands sure and firm. Death was a she-wolf with a Deputy's badge.

You tore through Joseph’s flock like a wolf. Unthreading carefully laid plans and slipping through John’s hands at every turn, you left a trail of carnage behind you. John is eager to put you through your paces and when you slip over the border into the Whitetail Mountains Jacob can nearly hear his growls of frustration. John knows Jacob handles things differently at the Veterans Centre. Ever the fussy younger brother, he voices his concern to Joseph that Jacob’s methods will ruin any progress he has already made with your atonement. 

As if you are a shiny new toy not to be shared. 

Joseph is curt; John’s obsession is burning too hot. It is for the best. Faith titters at this, as if she isn't just as enamored at the thought of having you mindlessly trapped in the Bliss. The tone Joseph uses is calm yet firm, brooking no argument from John. Perhaps you’ll be more pliant in confession after you’ve sacrificed for the cause. Joseph’s even gaze meets Jacob’s. There is a challenge there, for Jacob to argue, but he only nods in amused agreement.

Jacob quickly becomes intimate with John’s feelings of frustration towards you. At first he lets you explore as you desire. When he sends his chosen out to retrieve you and none of them return, there is a twinge of annoyance. So, you are more tenacious than he has given you credit for. That’s his first mistake and he won’t let himself make it again. Jacob dispatches helicopter patrols, applies pressure to up the production of Judges and sends out two more hunting parties. One returns in shame, unable to locate you. Jacob is pitiless if not shrewd; they prove useful as prey in hunting trials for the new Judges. The second party, bless them, does not return.

Like a wolf you howl only when you want to be found. As soon as you take down the Baron Lumbermill, Jacob is preparing. He hasn’t been out on reconnaissance himself in years, but this is different. Unbidden, memories flicker at the edge of his vision like shadows. Jacob thumbs the rabbit foot that hangs from his dog tags distractedly. He begins to understand his siblings strange infatuation with you. Your willfullness and tenacity serve only to make the hunt more exciting.

He selects a small group of Judges and a few hand picked hunters before heading out. As much as he hates to admit it, he’s eager. This particular wolf has given his hunters a hard chase, time to see if you're really worth his attention. Oh, the look on John's face would be sweet, once he hears that Jacob has dragged you back by the scruff of your neck. He's looking forward to seeing how far he'll be able to push you before your will snaps completely. Pratt had put up an entertaining struggle, but in the end he had broken with just a little pressure applied to the right spot. Put them under enough stress and you could break anyone. Like a dry branch or even a human femur. You on the other hand, Jacob was going to watch your debasement with no little enjoyment.


	2. The Snare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob is eager to hunt you down himself. Certain feelings make themselves known and aren't so easy for him to push aside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this doubled in chapters due to me not being able to make decisions, naturally. Looking forward to posting the next chapter!

A brief thought crosses Jacob’s mind, as they follow your easily distinguishable tracks from the lumber mill into the hills to the northeast. Perhaps you want to be hunted. Have you done all this just to draw him out? The idea makes him shiver in anticipation. Jacob dismisses the thought. He wants you to be scared, wants you to feel the tightening ache of dread in your chest as you realized you were being tracked. After wiping out two hunting parties, Jacob relished the thought of outsmarting you himself. The thought of you running scared, after giving him so much trouble, creates a warm curl of arousal in his core. He scrubs a hand across his face and runs his fingers through his beard. This is not the time. Images of you panting, breathless, neck damp with sweat, flit unwanted through his imagination. Jacob can suddenly sympathize with John’s compulsive need. He is aware of his brother’s temptations. Well, John could have you, after Jacob had bent you to the task he had planned.

Jacob’s chosen track you into the hills. A nagging sense of suspicion gnaws at him. Your tracks, once so clear, are harder and harder to pick out among the rocks and boulders of the mountainside. He is sure now that you know you are being followed. The signs of your passing that they can find appear fresh and deliberate. Where there are no prints there are snapped branches and disturbed lichen. They are close. Jacob is acutely conscious of the last time he underestimated you. As they near an outcrop of rock he splits his followers, sending half of them up around the back of the bluff with a couple of the judges. The others follow him quietly, as he favours the direct approach.

Not twenty yards from the base of the hill a loud crack cuts the air and one of the chosen, bow still clutched in his hands, crumples where he stands. Jacob grits his teeth and slips behind cover, slinging the familiar weight of his rifle from his shoulder. There is a glimmer of admiration that surfaces beneath his irritation at what a crack-shot you are. He motion’s for the judges to be loosed just in time. An explosion right next to him makes Jacob duck instinctively. His ears ring and his vision blurs as he is pelted with rocks, bits of earth, trees and wet pieces of the last two chosen that had followed him. A remote explosive. It takes a minute to suppress the flight or fight response that triggers in his muscles from years of active military service. You had known you would be pursued. You had expected it, planned for it. There’s no time to berate himself for selling you short again. He steadies himself and lifts the rifle scope to his eye, scanning the hilltop for you. In the confusion of the explosion you have already shot one of the judges, its body lays halfway up the hill. As Jacob searches, he catches his first proper sight of you. The second judge drops mid-lope. Jacob watches the expression of your face as you take aim at the last judge. Is that sadness? Regret? He sighs; they’ll have to drive that out of you, one way or another. In the last second, you’re rifle jams and the judge is upon you.

About damn time your luck turned.

Jacob lowers the sniper rifle and swiftly covers the last amount of ground to the crest of the hill. As much as he would love to let the animal tear you apart he knows the news would hardly please Joseph. You’re struggling with the wolf on top of you. Covered in blood, you stab a knife into the animal’s side and attempt to kick it from you. It staggers, crying out with a shrill howl. You’re bleeding from several bites on your arms and hands, as well as your shoulder. Vision swimming, you barely notice Jacob approach. He makes short work of the wounded judge. Before it can savage you again, Jacob shoots it in the back of the head. He turns his rifle on you, almost lazily, and watches you push yourself to your knees. You attempt to climb to your feet, but Jacob gestures at you with his rifle and tuts. “Stay” his command is sharp. You bare your teeth but stay where you are, clearly not fancying a new bullet wound in your shoulder. A she-wolf indeed. Jacob lifts your chin with the end of his rifle. He studies your face, a steely glare and half formed snarl on your lips. 

“So much trouble for one little girl”

The sight of you on your knees, fierce and defenceless, does things to him. Jacob whistles to alert the other group of hunters to his position, he’s sure they’re close. Your eyes dart around you, defiant to the last, still searching for a way out, something to use as a weapon. Your boldness is especially arousing after the difficulty Jacob has had in collecting you. He can’t help but imagine having you truly at his mercy... the abrupt and pervasive idea of you naked, bent over his desk and pleading for him is almost too much. Jacob inhales sharply and looks for the arrival of the surviving chosen, preferring any other sight to the look in your eyes and the curve of your neck. 

The other hunters arrive on cue, some questioning the location of the other group, another congratulating Jacob on finally catching the now infamous Deputy. Jacob is gruff in his orders as he turns from you. Your wounds aren’t life threatening, you can still walk. Without a second glance, you are unceremoniously bound and dragged behind them to the waiting trucks.


	3. Brought to Bay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a climax, literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter! It really makes me want to write a short John Seed series after I finish this. Enjoy!

“Does she miss me?”

John’s voice crackles over the receiver. The call is impromptu and Jacob has no interest in encouraging this conversation to last any longer than it has to. Despite the fuzzy connection it’s impossible to miss the smug tone in his brother’s voice. Luckily, Jacob barely need say anything; John only wants an audience.

“I heard she gave you quite the runaround.”

Jacob grunts. He’s only half listening, more focused on the reports of the subject’s progress, yours among them. You had put up a strong front at first, but a few days without food and little water, broke that facade down quickly. After that, you advanced through the trials with surprising skill. Of course, Jacob had picked you out for a reason; your drive for self-preservation was strong. It was not unknown for wolves to turn on one another in extreme cases for survival, and you had only two choices; kill or die.

“I can just imagine all the sins I could pull from her in confession. Wrath? Of course. Pride as well I’m sure, and I can only imagine her sins of lust...”

The last one hits a little close to home, especially after Jacob had fought with the mild arousal that grew from watching you shoot a number of men in the head, with no little expertise, earlier that day. He waits until he is sure John is finished before speaking into the handset. 

“Are you done?” Jacob’s tone betrays only a hint of impatience but John catches on to it immediately.

“Am I keeping you from something?” His brother’s attitude is suddenly icy. “Just because Joseph took your side this time doesn’t mean she won’t face her atonement eventually.” There was a short pause, and John’s voice was no longer tinged with annoyance but was instead almost sweet. “Try not to ruin her for me.”

Jacob chooses not to take the bait and instead looks to the door. He’s expecting you. He leaves his end of the radio on, effectively ending John’s chatter. Of course, his brother is sure to hear your conversation; John is very easy to rattle. It’s not a minute before Pratt leads you in and then with a meek nod, leaves, closing the door behind him. Jacob rises from the desk chair leisurely, regarding you. You’re a little worse for wear after the last few days and hungry as all hell but you keep your chin even and your gaze fixed on Jacob. He holds your stare briefly. 

“You look hungry.”

He begins to circle you and your eyes light on his desk. You can make out your name heading the topmost page, and there are many more underneath. Amongst the papers and notes, you spot a small penknife. It’s closed, but you figure you might just be quick enough to grab it and flick it open in time. You can’t stand the thought of being locked up here for another day, slowly starving. It would only be a bonus if you could get a stab in at Jacob during your escape. Your mind drifts back, to earlier that day; your spine had tingled as he had praised your ability during the trial. You shake your head, this is really not the time.

Before you dare to think through the consequences of failure you lurch forward. Your hand closes around the knife but before you can open it you are thrown backward and slammed into the wall. Your vision explodes in yellows and reds as your head bounces off the wall behind you.

"You're going to regret that"

Jacob's voice isn’t angry, you've never heard him raise his voice in anger yet, but it is stern and foreboding. He has you pinned against the wall, hands at your wrists, thigh pressed between yours to keep you from struggling. He smells like the woods, pine and gunpowder and a hint of musk.

"Drop it"

His tone is even but commanding. When you don't immediately react he slams your hand against the drywall. You drop the knife and bite back a cry, arching your back involuntarily and riding up Jacob's thigh. You are humiliated to feel the warmth of arousal spread up from between your thighs and mingle with the burning anger in your chest. Jacob's hands tighten around your wrists and you feel his breath hitch. 

Without thinking your actions through you press yourself against him, riding up him a little higher. You're almost surprised to feel Jacob's erection pressing into you, taught against his pants. Your heart is burning with such an intoxicating mix of passion and anger; it makes it hard for you to think straight.

"This is not what you want."

There is a warning there, but you don’t listen. You turn your head towards Jacob and he is suddenly still as your lips meet his. Jacob is not sure what to expect, but when the light brush of your lips turns into a sharp bite, he is sure he’s not going to let you get away with that kind of behavior. 

“This is a game you are not going to win.” Again he warns you.

Laughing outright you challenge him. "Try me."

Jacob releases your hand that held the knife and winds it in your hair before pulling sharply, exposing your neck. You clutch at his shirt collar for dear life as he grinds against you, nipping and kissing your neck. 

“You bruise so easily.” He says with faux concern. “What will the Whitetails think when I send you back to them?"

You shiver, on the knife edge of pleasure and pain as his bites become harder and his hand tightens in your hair. A hum of pleasure escapes your throat and you immediately regret it. Jacob's eyes are steely and clear as he pulls back to regard you. He chuckles.

"If you could only see your face..."

You can already imagine it; your eyes lidded, lips parted, practically panting. You hardly care, your mind too foggy with need and frustration. This is just a distraction, you reassure yourself. Maybe if you play along you'll be able to get your hands back on that knife... The thought is quickly lost as Jacob unsheathes his own large hunting knife from his belt and makes short work of your shirt, your pant’s button and then your underwear, one-handed. He replaces it on his belt as you hang on to his shirt tightly. You should move, do anything, but you are transfixed by a desire that seems to consume you both. Jacob's hand drops from your hair down to your neck, thumb grazing your jaw. You try to bite but fail as he holds your chin in a vice grip. Jacob’s eyes widen in mock surprise.

“You know, you would look great... in a muzzle.” The threat is more than enough to make you cease your hassling, for the moment.

His right hand follows the curve of your hips down to the parting of your thighs. His hold on your neck is light now, but threatening, as he slips a finger inside you. You grit your teeth in embarrassment as you belatedly realize how wet this has made you. 

Jacob is smug as he slips a second digit into you. The look on your face is worth every bit of trouble you have caused him. His thumb teases your clit as he curls his fingers inside you. He smiles as you give an involuntary gasp and he picks up the pace of his strokes. Your eyes stay locked on his as he builds you up, and Jacob loves it. 

You're nearing your peak as he withdraws his fingers from you and you sigh in annoyance. Finally able to gain some of your focus back you attempt to push him from you but Jacob pulls you in front of him, slamming your hips against his desk, hard enough to bruise, and bending you over. 

You hiss in surprise and pain, your breasts spilling from your torn shirt as Jacob hooks your arms behind you. You hear the jingle of him undoing his belt and then your legs are kicked apart. He teases your clit with the tip of his cock, lubing himself in your wetness. You groan with pleasure, you're so sensitive after your denied orgasm you can feel yourself arching your back against him, desperate for release. Without warning, he sheaths his girth in you fully.

"You are a tight little thing." Jacob's voice is breathy as he pulls back and slams into you again. You are more than pleasantly full, and your world has narrowed only to the feeling of Jacob's cock sliding in and out of you. The sounds your cunt makes are obscene. You arch your back as much as you can; desperate to get him deeper inside you, but the more you push back the farther Jacob pulls away from you. He pauses.

“How bad do you need it? I want you to let me know.” Jacob’s voice is raspy and low, you can tell he wants this just as much as you do, but he wants your pride broken first. Your face burns with shame. You consider resisting, but only for a moment. You’re already too far gone.

“Please” you manage, breathlessly. 

“Hmm?” He laughs “I didn’t catch that”

You struggle weakly, but it’s no use.

“Please Jacob!”

Jacob finds himself surprisingly pleased with the absolute need he hears in your voice when you call his name. If his hunters in the courtyard don't hear you, John surely does on the other end of the open receiver.

“So Deputy,” he uses your title only in mockery, “you can learn new tricks after all.” He slides himself back into you and starts up a steady motion, one hand laced in your hair, the other keeping a firm hold of your forearms. You bite your lip to keep from moaning, but still mewls of pleasure slip from you. You feel your orgasm building up again.  


“Faster!” your own command is barely above a whisper but Jacob heeds it completely, setting a relentless pace. Your climax comes crashing upon you at all once. You cry out something along the lines of “Oh God, fuck yes-“.

As you tense and shudder around Jacob’s cock he reaches his own release, pulling himself from you quickly, spilling ropes of cum across your backside. You stay where you are, bent over the desk, panting. Jacob leans into you, forehead resting on your shoulder, equally breathless. You both stay like that for some time, until your breathing returns to normal. Jacob’s warmth leaves your back and you hear him buckling his pants. You push yourself up, hyper aware of the cum dripping down your ass. Grabbing what is left of your underwear from the floor you attempt to clean yourself as best you can. The feeling in the room is thick with tension. You flick the cum soaked panties from you, making sure they land square in the middle of Jacob’s desk. His back is turned to you as you head for the exit but his voice stops you as you push open the door, pants held together tightly in your other hand. Jacob’s voice is loud enough to be heard by Pratt, still waiting in the hallway. 

“Let her clean up in the showers”

You hold your head high, unflinching from Pratt’s gaze. He tries not to stare, but his eyes keep flicking back to the blooming bite marks on your neck.


	4. The Brace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brace /brās/  
> Noun: A pair of something, typically of birds or mammals killed in hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this and the 5th chapter were originally supposed to be one, but its turning out a bit longer than I anticipated so I've split them up. Also, thank you to everyone who has read/liked/commented, it's very inspiring :)

The song has wormed its way into your head and acts like a leash, pulling you back to Jacob whenever he wants. You are at his mercy with merely a tug. You hate the power he has over you, and yet, you can't deny the shiver of excitement that creeps up your spine at the sound of his taunts or the rasp of his voice over your radio.

Your goal is simple; raze Jacob Seed's operation to the ground. The little thought you put into your destruction centres around how much damage you can do, with one exception; the dig of your conscience forces you to help the Whitetails as much as you are able. Eli showers you in praise, yet is barely bothered when you disappear for days at a time, without a sign.

When you look in the mirror, your eyes are haunted and hungry. It unsettles you.

Thoughts of your last encounter both thrill and repulse Jacob. The defiance in your eyes, and the sounds you made only for him add themselves to the cacophony of memories that keep him from finding peace at night. You are deadly in combat and your aim is nearly perfect, the idea of you as one of his Hunters is amusing, and Jacob has to admit, arousing. There was something intoxicating about having someone so fierce and willful brought to beg for you... 

The fact that you've survived this long is a testament in itself. He wonders if you know what confrontation he is forcing you into. In the trials you tear through the militia as easily as you tear through the Chosen, with a ferocity that belies your need for survival. There is something of you that Jacob recognizes in him; the strength to withstand suffering, the instinctual ability to outlast. 

If you are a wolf then what is he?

The first time he calls you back Joseph is there. Jacob barely acknowledges your presence. Instead you are surprised to see him share a tender moment of affection with his brother. It’s hard to consolidate the idea you have of the man in front of you, with being a loving brother. It’s even harder to sit through Joseph’s monologue. Your knuckles whiten around the bars of your cage as he calmly tells you about how he suffocated his infant daughter, as if it was part of some divine plan.

As Joseph turns from your cage, you swallow the saliva you would love to spit at him instead. Jacob wears a look that is begging you to try it. You're sure he would enjoy forcing you to lick it back up off the ground.

Jacob makes his way to your cage and you grimace as he reveals the music box to you. He is just out of reach, but you make one desperate grab for it anyways. Jacob raises an eyebrow slightly, mocking you, daring you to try harder as your head begins to pound and your vision blurs.

Afterwards, during your trial, he does grudgingly praise you.

“Cull the weak.”

“Perfect.”

And then, you could almost see his sneer,

"Good girl."

You wake up at the foot of Devil’s Drop, covered in blood, faded bite marks barely hidden underneath the collar of your shirt.

A foray to the Henbane River is short lived. You find yourself back at the border after liberating only the prison. The responsibility placed on your shoulders by the Sherriff is suffocating and Faith's vivid hallucinations only serve to drive you back to the mountains. You hate to admit it, but its refreshing to return. The weight of the gun in your hands is no hallucination; the whip of the branches as you run through the woods with your companions is real. The marks on your shoulders and neck have fully faded now. No evidence left to prove your intimate encounter with Jacob was not just another dream.

You are hunting and destroying his wolf beacons with a burning vengeance when he calls you back the second time. This time Joseph isn't there. You are lectured on the finer points of having to eat another human being. You watch Pratt painstakingly take a straight razor to Jacob's stubble. It's a show, for you. It says 

"Look how broken"

"Look how obedient"

He pushed you physically, in the trials. You overcame, each time made you only more quick and precise. He also did his best to humiliate you.

The door to the office is open, Pratt stands at the entrance where he has been placed, trying hard to ignore the sounds Jacob wants him to hear.

He fucks you against the wall, next to his desk. You scratch and bite but also whimper in gratification as every thrust sends toe curling pleasure racing up your spine. 

You cant exactly recall how you came to be in this situation again and at this point you don't really care. After everything you've been through it's easy to lose yourself in the feeling.

Jacob knows this is a dangerous game, but the reward of your teeth along his throat and soft way you now breath his name is like a siren song.

Your intimacies are infrequent, erratic. You are opportunistic, like wolves. 

He wants to say, "I too have done horrible things when the only other choice was to die"

But instead he quickens his thrusts as your nails dig into his shoulders and he marks your throat with his teeth.

He savors the feeling of you coming undone in his arms.

Though he wants to, Jacob knows these feelings for you cannot be pursued. You are not some woman content to be a bed warmer, like Holly was for John. Even if you weren't constantly at each others throats, Jacob can't imagine a scenario where two damaged things could ever be useful to one another. It was a momentary lapse in judgement, like his initial underestimation of you. You are a means to an end, a tool; Jacob must remind himself that more and more often as of late.


End file.
